Saint & Sinner
by Craft Rose
Summary: Hermione Granger is the first Muggle-born accepted into Durmstrang Institute. Because of this, she is subjected to extreme hazing by the order of the school's most popular student: Draco Malfoy. Tempers fly, along with some sparks.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: In case you're curious, this is heavily inspired by the Korean television adaptation of "Hana Yori Dango" (Boys Over Flowers). Definitely one of my favourite kdramas. Enjoy! **

Durmstrang Institute was drastically different from Hogwarts, in more ways than the look of the castle and the blood red, militaristic uniforms. The student body was very much a dictatorship, run by the wealthiest, most popular students in the school. Their names were Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. They were the quintessential blue bloods, born on a pile of gold and fed the finest gourmet dishes with a silver spoon. She had never met anyone of their make back in Hogwarts, and part of her hated that fact. It made her weak.

Their ringleader, Draco Malfoy, had it out for her since day one. He took it upon himself to make her life at Durmstrang a living hell. The worst part wasn't even him. It was the way in which the other students abided by his wishes without an ounce of thought. She had barely been at Durmstrang for a week, and already the brunette had been tarred, feathered, locked in the sauna and subject to countless insults and blood slurs.

There were eyes on her everywhere, around every corner, and no matter how hard Hermione tried to avoid them, her efforts proved futile in the face of her one true adversary. He was undoubtedly the worst, most sadistic person she had ever encountered. Her presence at Durmstrang was supposed to be history-in-the-making, and she was making history…just not in the way she had intended.

Hermione slipped into the corridor, away from raucous laughter. Her uniform was covered in egg yolk and flour. She had innocently strolled to the Dining Hall for supper, when suddenly a group of young men blocked off the door and proceeded to hurl various baking ingredients at her. It wouldn't have mattered all that much, had she not been carrying all her books and school supplies. Her things were ruined. She thought to owl her mother and beg for a transfer back to Hogwarts, but giving up wasn't in Hermione's nature.

She made way for the girls' bathroom, ignoring the snickers and whispers. It was all just a test of her endurance, and what Draco Malfoy and his friends didn't know about was her strong, borderline obsessive need to rise above the odds.

"Granger!"

Durmstrang Institute was located in Northern Europe. The majority of staff and students were from non-English speaking countries, which created a vast variety of accents from all over the continent. There were, however, few students, such as Hermione, from merry old England and the young man behind her happened to be one of them. She turned on her heel and found a tall, dark-haired wizard adorned in blood red. In any other situation, she would have considered him handsome, but he happened to be close friends with the enemy.

His name was Theodore Nott. To her understanding, he was a good student and aspired to be a Healer of the Dark Arts. They shared several classes together, given their near-identical course load and he was fairly quiet – not one for participation or extracurricular. It shocked her to think he was so closely aligned with the likes of Malfoy and Zabini.

Theodore approached her from around the corner, catching the attention of several onlookers. Most of them were female. Hermione had no idea what they were whispering to one another, but it sounded horrifically similar to the things people would say when she would walk through Hogwarts with Harry. It was jealousy. It had to be jealousy.

"Hello," he greeted, holding out his hand. "My name is Theodore. I don't believe we've had an introduction."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, feeling the egg yolk drip from her uniform. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm a bit…preoccupied." She gestured to the mess.

"Right." Nott set down his book bag, in the middle of the corridor, and retrieved a handkerchief. It was white and had his initials sewn to the corner in black. "Here – let me."

The young witch watched in pure silence, as he wiped the flour and egg yolk from her face and hair. It would have made more sense to use magic for cleaning but Durmstrang had a strict no-magic-outside-of-classrooms rule. She figured it had something to do with the school's reputation for dabbling in the Dark Arts. In any case, it was proving to be quite the nuisance.

"Erm – thanks," Hermione forced out, perplexed. "My name is Hermione."

"I know," he nodded. "You sit near me in Potions."

She narrowed her vision. There was something peculiar in the way he was speaking to her, namely the fact that his voice wasn't drenched in disdain like the other students – and most of the staff. Hermione folded her arms over her chest and made motion to leave.

"Wait!" Nott called out, jogging in front of her. "I – I'm sorry for what happened back there. It was out of order."

She waited patiently for him to continue. There was an air of remorse about this young man, and he didn't seem half as bad as his friends, but his social standing alone left him high up on her list of foes.

"I'm sure you know this is all Draco's doing. It's nothing personal, just a bit of hazing because you're new."

"We both know this _hazing _has nothing to do with my being new," she responded cleverly, side-stepping him. "And tell your friend Draco that I have no immediate plans of bowing down to him."

Nott frowned. "He won't stop until you do."

"Lucky me," Hermione hollered, swinging the door to the girls' bathroom wide open and slamming it shut behind her. There were several sixth year girls there, regarding her with more whispers and some laughter. She dutifully ignored them and headed straight for the sink, splashing water onto her face to clean off the residue. It took about ten minutes for the bathroom to clear out, and when it did Hermione felt the frustration in her chest begin to surface around her eyes.

It was during moments like this in which she missed home the most. Her year at Durmstrang was turning into a nightmare, and she'd only been there for six days. The freezing climate she could handle. The scarce sunlight she could handle. The small, closet-sized dormitory she could handle. The heavy workload she could handle. The questionable food she could handle. Heck, she could even handle the _hazing_, as Nott called it, but it was her lack of rights as the first Muggle-born student in Durmstrang history that bothered her most.

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Something had to give. This couldn't be her fate. She couldn't possibly spend the next year getting tarred and feathered, and then hiding away in the girls' bathroom. She promised her friends and family that she would make the most of this opportunity. There were so many secrets left to be uncovered, so many corridors and rooms of the Russian Renaissance-style castle to be explored. It was exponentially smaller in comparison to Hogwarts, standing at only four stories, but Durmstrang utilized every inch of space with some of the darkest magic known to man.

The first floor was the common area, containing the dining hall, fitness centre, library and ballroom. The second floor was housing, with girls dormitories to the right and boys to the left. The third floor was used for staff housing/offices and required classes (such as Charms, Potions and Transfiguration). The fourth floor, however, remained host to the Dark Arts. Her one and only class on the fourth floor was Curse Breaking and it was, ironically enough, her one and only class with Draco Malfoy.

She figured he practically lived on the fourth floor. There was an incredible amount of darkness within that young man, and Hermione had every intention of exposing him for what he was – a monster.

* * *

Draco strolled into his and his friends' common room. There was music blaring from the magic sound system and a fine selection of dessert items laid out across the center table. It was something of a recreational room, situated on the second floor and meant for the three wealthiest students in the school. Their families had donated large sums of money to Durmstrang over the years, and by doing so fashioned something of an unofficial agreement with the school administration. The boys were treated differently from other students. Their living quarters were sectioned off from the rest, in a private sector of the boys' wing, and school uniform was not mandatory.

It was the high life, and he enjoyed every moment of it, particularly moments such as the one in the dining hall. Draco stifled his laughter, sitting on his winged leather armchair and replaying the moment over and over again; as though it were a video on repeat. The Mudblood's face had been priceless. It was well worth the scolding he would get from his mother for being too public with his distaste for their kind. Truth be told, Durmstrang was not a place for Muggle-borns or the like. It never was, and never would be. He would make sure of it.

"That was quite the show," Blaise chortled, taking a seat on his matching armchair. There were three in total, one for each of the boys, positioned in the middle of the room with a small, square table in the center. "I swear I saw Headmaster Forsberg crack a smile."

A thin smirk twisted its way onto Draco's lips. "It's only the beginning," he announced proudly. "I'll make the Mudblood run out of here screaming by the end of the week."

"The Gods are merciless for making her Muggle-born," Blaise added, pouring himself a glass of Firewhiskey. "She's a cute one."

"She's filthy," Draco stated plainly.

"I think she's nice," voiced Theo, chalking up his cue stick before sinking the eight ball. The billiards table was located near the far wall, in front of the large triple casement windows.

Draco scoffed. "She's basic, common and grotesquely boring."

"I don't know," Blaise shrugged, swirling his drink. "Give me the right amount of alcohol and I'd have a go at her."

"You'd have a go at anyone," Draco deduced, staring down at his friends for displaying such blatant disregard for his hatred. "Including the new Charms professor, if I'm not mistaken."

Blaise smiled fondly at the memory. "Ah, Elaine. Perfect night. I might just pop by her office later and go for round two."

"Do you ever think about what would happen if you're caught?" Theo asked, disapprovingly. "She's not even that young."

"It's not age that matters," Blaise said matter-of-factly. "It's confidence, and Elaine is one confident woman."

"She's Half-blood," Draco gagged. "I'm curious as to how you managed to get through an entire night without vomiting."

Theo reset the billiards balls, sinking seven in his first shot. "That's a generous assumption, given the rumours Helena Ledger has been spreading about our dear friend's stamina."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Helena Ledger is a fraud. She tried to sleep with me last June and I declined. I suppose targeting my performance was her only way to get back at me." He took a full mouth of Firewhiskey, easing through the bite. "Either way, go easy on Granger. I'd like to see what's under that uniform before you send her packing."

"That's disgusting," Draco and Theo said in unison, shooting one another surprised stares.

Theo shook his head, refocusing and sinking a few more balls. "I think we've had our fun, and now it's time to leave her alone."

Draco grimaced. "White Knight to the rescue."

"That's not what this is about –"

"_That's a good plan_," Blaise interjected, setting down his glass and brainstorming. "I'll be her shoulder to cry on after Draco's master prank and she'll definitely put out."

Theo's attention darted from the billiards table to his friends. He shot each of them an exasperated look. "What's the master prank?"

Draco did nothing but smile. "Let's just say Blaise won't be alone in getting a peep at what's under her uniform."


	2. Chapter 2

The swimming pool was large, rectangular in shape and perfect in both depth and temperature. Hermione carefully set down her towel on one of the poolside chairs and slipped into the water. It was cold, at first, but her body adapted in a matter of seconds. She hadn't gone for a swim in ages. It used to be one of her favourite pastimes, but Hogwarts had no such facility and she was usually busy at the Burrow during summer.

In her Muggle years, she had participated in her school's swim team. It was one of her hidden talents, something even her best friends didn't know about. Through their eyes, she was nothing but a bookish brunette, with not one athletic bone in her body. That assessment, however, could not have been further from the truth. She wasn't good at Quidditch, given her fear of flying, but Hermione had always been one for ground and water sports.

She carefully adjusted her goggles and swim cap, thankful the pool was empty that morning. It was usually packed with young men from the Quidditch team, as part of their daily workout regimen, but the sun had only just risen, which meant most of the school was still soundly asleep. Hermione took a deep breath, immersing her lungs full of air until pushing off from one end and breaking out in a nice, even stroke.

The strain in her muscles vanished. She felt at home. Her rough first week felt like a past life. Hermione smiled internally, and continued to swim. She completed four laps in quick succession, before grabbing onto one of the sides and wiping the water from her face. There was a sound. It was faint, and barely audible through all the water that had collected in and around her ears, but she knew footsteps when she heard them.

Her eyes darted around the area, over and over again, until finally she decided it had been nothing – just a figment of her imagination. Hermione scrunched her mouth to the side, disappointed for being so paranoid. It took several moments for her to gather the courage to continue. She swam some more. She swam fast. She swam hard. She swam with one person in mind, one smirk and one face. She had never disliked anyone as much as Draco Malfoy, even her old Potions Master.

Theodore Nott, however, wasn't bad people. Their brief exchange after the egg and flour attack had replayed in her mind all night and all morning. She felt like an idiot, thinking about someone she barely knew because of one simple conversation, but his quick show of kindness had given her hope that maybe Durmstrang wasn't all that bad. His bright blue eye and angular cheekbones didn't hurt, either.

Hermione tried to refocus her attention, smiling to herself as she got out of the pool. She took off her swim cap and goggles, dangling them from the tips of her fingers before reaching for her towel – but something happened. Her attention shifted to the chair on top of which she had placed the towel. It wasn't there. Her towel was gone, which could only mean one thing. The brunette swallowed hard, glancing around the indoor pool for any sign of another person. She couldn't hear anything, only the sound of her beating heart.

In a matter of seconds, she raced into the girls' change room and straight to the locker in which her things were placed. Hermione fumbled with the lock, sorting through her memory for the correct combination. It took three tries for her to get it right, and when she did a sigh of relief passed through her wet body. Her things were there. Her clothes. Her bag. Her shampoo. Everything. Hermione stifled the panic that had been coursing through her veins, and collected her personal items from the locker.

Her thoughts drifted once again to Theodore Nott, as she made way for one of the stalls. She had been somewhat cold to him, but truth be told, it was all an act. She had noticed him within her first hour at Durmstrang. He was more than handsome. He was scalding hot, and incredibly intelligent. She thought back to her hold crush on Ron Weasley, and couldn't help but laugh. Her life had taken a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn since those days. She was no longer Harry Potter's nerdy best friend. She was Hermione Granger, the first ever Muggle-born to step foot inside –

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," someone called from outside her stall. "Show us that cute little figure."

Her eyes turned the size of Galleons. Hermione shakily reached for her wand, knowing magic was prohibited outside of classrooms, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She would not be humiliated in such a vulnerable state. This was too far.

"I know you're in there," they continued, blatantly male. "Draco Malfoy sends his love."

The panic was back, stronger than ever. Hermione centered her thoughts, fears and nerves, taking several calming breaths until the door to her stall burst open. She pointed her wand at the unfamiliar face and just barely decided on which spell to use, when suddenly there were hands on her. The wand fell from her grasp. The boy wasn't alone. There were others. She tossed and turned, fighting against them as they carried her out of the stall, still in her bathing suit, and onto one of the benches amidst the lockers.

"Let go of me!" Hermione shouted, feeling tears of frustration form around her eyes. "I'll have your head on a platter for –"

The first boy slapped his hand over her mouth. "Shut your filthy mouth, you disgusting Mudblood."

The word tore through her conviction and into her heart. She had one weak spot, and being referred to, as a Mudblood happened to be it. Hermione didn't stop for one second, continuing her fight and trying not to think about the many hands yanking at the straps on her bathing suit.

Through the shouts and cries, she could hear several clicking sounds, and with one glance off to the side, she noticed one of the boys with a camera. It was pointed directly at her, and snapped images of her with bright, blinding flashes. Hermione gasped, kicking and screaming, wondering how on earth this sort of torture was allowed in a place for education.

"Give us a smile," winked the cameraman, snapping one more shot and high-fiving his friends. "You're quite sexy for a Mud –"

Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. The word was etched into her bones. She was nothing more to these people. She was just a nuisance, a nuisance they had to remove from their precious school. Hermione yanked her arm from one of the boys and tugged at the other, just barely prying his first finger from her wrist, when suddenly there was a scream. It wasn't hers. Her eyes darted to the side, and she noticed the cameraman was on the floor. His own eyes were filled with fear and with one foot on top of him stood the same tall, dark-haired wizard Hermione had been fantasizing over for the past day or so.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Theodore demanded, grabbing at the camera and smashing it to pieces with just one toss.

There were four boys, and not one of them spoke a word. They merely stared at one another, shocked and fearful.

Theodore's gaze drifted to Hermione, for just a split second, before he zeroed in on the culprits. "You're all disgusting, pathetic excuses for wizards. I don't care who put you up to this. We aren't a band of criminals. We're men of Durmstrang Institute. Does that not mean _anything_?" Crickets. He pointed to the door, furious. "You don't want to talk? Fine. Leave this place. I don't want to see any of you near this young woman, ever again." There were looks of horror all around. "_Do I make myself clear_?"

The boys nodded, hastily, stumbling over each other on their way out. There was a painful silence, as the last one made their exit. Hermione panted for breath, realizing her heart was still pounding. She tried to sit upright, but her body was still in shock. It was only when Theodore came to her aid, with one arm around her shoulders and the other dabbing the corner of her eyes with a soft towel that Hermione found the strength to move. She sat on the bench, beside him, completely quiet.

"I'll make sure this stops," Theodore told her. "I promise."

The young woman avoided his kind eyes. She had been humiliated, yet again, and her pride had been torn in two. It wasn't just a matter of dignity anymore. It was a matter of safety, and her safety had been tread upon as though it meant nothing. She was beginning to wonder if Durmstrang was worth the trouble.

"Do you need to see the nurse?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm fine."

"I really think you should, with everything that's been happening."

"There's no point," she responded quickly. "I'm unwanted here, by staff and students alike."

"That's not true," Theodore interjected. "I want you here. I – I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Hermione offered him a weak smile. "Don't bet on it."

Her savior returned the smile. His lips were thin but full, and a smile accented them quite well. "We aren't all like Draco," Theodore said, speaking his true words in subtext. "There are students like him, but most of them are just afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Hermione asked. "His blonde hair-dye?"

Theodore cracked a smile. "I'm afraid he's a natural blonde, but in any case…it's his parents' empire. The Malfoy clan has been a powerhouse for centuries. It's not just about money. It's about connections."

She nodded along. "I suppose a Muggle-born like me is worth less than the scum on the bottom of his designer boots."

"I'm not sure if he believes that. This is going to sound ridiculous, but Draco isn't all that bad. He's just…bored."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "He's a bully."

"He is," Theodore agreed. "But I'll have a talk with him. This nonsense has got to stop."

"You don't have to do that."

"Bollocks," he affirmed. "I'll do it tonight. I'll make sure the rest of your stay at Durmstrang is as wonderful as it should be."

The brunette eyed him. "Why are you so nice to me?"

Theodore shrugged, glancing away from her. "You've got fight. You're one of the few people who haven't folded to Draco's will, and I think that's a great show of character."

"Has he always been so…unpleasant?"

"Here and there," the young man answered honestly. "But I think he's being extra hard on you for one reason."

"I'm Muggle-born," Hermione deduced, as though it were obvious.

Theodore shook his head. "Nope. It's because you took his number one spot in our class."

She moved back a couple inches, surprised. "I had no idea he was…smart."

The wizard laughed. "Doesn't seem like it when he parades around the corridors like Josef Stalin, but Draco is one for academics."

"Interesting," Hermione gathered, allowing her thought to drift off into the atmosphere. "You know what? Don't talk to him. I – I think I have a plan."

This time Theodore was the one to arch an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Hermione nodded. "It's nothing personal but…I really need to put him in his place, on my own terms."

"More power to you," Theodore assessed, visibly impressed with her determination. "But – erm – I still feel terrible for what has happened to you this past week. I don't know if you would be interested, but there is a party on Saturday, in our private common room. You should come."

"A party?" Hermione repeated, taken aback. "What's the occasion?"

"It's Blaise's birthday," explained the wealthy wizard. "I – erm – I don't usually have much to do at such events. It would be nice to have some company."

There was a fluttery feeling in Hermione's chest. She paused for a moment, swallowing down the nervousness before smiling. "I would love to attend but I'm quite sure the other boys wouldn't want me there."

"Blaise is indifferent and Draco doesn't matter," Theodore declared. "It's sort of a formal thing, but there's usually decent music once the night gets going."

Hermione weighed her options. She had no plans for Saturday, other than sleep in and revise for classes. It had been a long time since she'd attended any form of a party with her own age group. She could definitely use the release, but walking straight into the lion's den seemed a bit risky. Either way, it was equally amusing as it was dangerous.

"I'll let you know," she told Theodore, standing. "Oh, and I almost forgot." The witch turned back, facing him. "Thanks," she smiled. "For everything."

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

Hermione refocused her attention on the dripping wet bathing suit still adorned on her body. She walked back to the stall and prayed to Merlin that her arse looked as phenomenal as she hoped.

It was a brand new day.

**A/N: Hey, guys. Thanks for reading! It's not mandatory, but I would really appreciate a review. I've never written anything quite like this, so some feedback would be more than helpful. In any case, thank you and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There are many more to come. xo. **


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